Damage:  Nate's Silence
by vivi749
Summary: Set right after The Radio Job, so spoilers. Nate's reaction to the  events of that episode. M for explicit sexual content in chapter one.
1. Damage: Nate's Silence

I don't own Leverage. This has been working itself out in my head since The Radio Job. Spoilers for that if you haven't seen it.

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><p>For almost four days after his father died in that warehouse, Nate didn't speak a word. When it first happened, the team was so focused on getting him to safety that they didn't notice. Eliot was the first one to notice Nate's silence; he was checking him over upstairs at his apartment for damage caused by being too close to the explosion. He was asking him questions and getting no answers. For a few seconds, he thought maybe Nate couldn't hear him. He knew all too well how close proximity to a bomb detonation could effect hearing. But Nate quite clearly could hear him, because he looked right at him and nodded yes or no. But he wouldn't talk.<p>

When Eliot had satisfied himself that most of the damage was only messy, not actually dangerous, he went and found Sophie, who was currently sitting at Nate's kitchen table, staring off into space. Eliot had to call her name twice before she looked at him. "Damage?"

Eliot shook his head. "Superficial. Other than the fact that he needs to wash out his ears so the blood doesn't congeal, he should be okay. He might be dizzy for a couple of days but as long as he's not falling over it's alright. He's got a few scrapes on his chest and stomach from the splinters that were flying around, but as long as he puts some antibiotic ointment on them they'll heal up. But that isn't the damage I'm worried about Sophie." She continued to watch him. He went on. "He wouldn't talk to me. I know he heard me, he even nodded to answer my questions, but he wouldn't say anything. Not one word. Considering how much he usually talks that's not a good sign. He needs to be watched."

"I'm not going anywhere." She hesitated for a second and then said "I want you guys to stay away for a few days. I need..." She dropped her eyes and stared at the table. She took a deep breath and continued "I need you guys to let me do this. Let me take care of him. If you guys are here he'll keep trying to pretend that everything's okay, because he doesn't want you to see him as being vulnerable. But maybe he can trust me enough." For once, there wasn't much confidence in Sophie's voice.

Eliot walked over and sat down beside her, pulling her into a hug. She rested her head on his shoulder and tried not to cry. All the work she'd done to try to help fix the damage to Nate, and now this. For all she knew the man upstairs in that bed might be an exact replica of the one she'd found that first year on this team. Funny, intelligent... and as close to being dead as a person could get emotionally.

"Love sucks, huh?" Eliot rested his chin on her head. She didn't say anything, but nodded against his chest. "Sophie, if you need us, tell me you'll call."

"I'll call."

"Are you lying?" He looked at her.

"I have absolutely no idea. I guess we'll find out if I need you guys." She pulled away, dragging a hand through her hair. "I'm going up to see him. You need to go home and find some ice packs. As it is I bet you'll be peeing blood for a week." He tilted his head and gave her a weird look, and she shrugged. "I heard them hitting you. And you walk like you wish you could forget your lower back exists."

He nodded. "I'll keep the others away."

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><p>Sophie walked into Nate's room. He was lying flat on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She said his name softly. He didn't move aside from a shifting of his eyes toward her. "Come on," she said softly, tugging on his hand. "You need a shower."<p>

He tried to stand up off of the bed and nearly did a face plant onto the floor. She quickly pushed him backward. Then she stood there for a minute, thinking. How the hell was he going to stand up for a shower if he was that dizzy? Sure, she could get him in there, and it wouldn't be the first time she'd washed his body (despite her attempts to stop it, she couldn't help her body's response thinking about the last time they'd had sex in the shower). But she couldn't hold him up and wash him at the same time. Finally, she remembered that there was a folding plastic stool in Nate's closet. She got it and set it up in the tub and then stood him up, keeping hold of him this time and draping an arm around his waist. She led him in and sat him in the tub and then stripped herself, figuring that if she was going to get wet washing him, she might as well shower at the same time.

He watched her undress, but the desire that was usually in his eyes at the sight was missing. She tried not to let it hurt, but she couldn't help it. So she acknowledged the fact and got on with what needed to be done.

He winced a bit when the warm water hit the scrapes on his chest. There were some on his back as well, from when he'd hit the ground. She did her best to be gentle while she was washing him with a cloth but she wanted to make sure they didn't get infected. Lord knew his immune system couldn't have been the greatest, with all the alcohol he'd put in it. Suddenly she smiled out of nowhere. He noticed but didn't look the slightest bit curious. She decided to tell him anyway.

"I was just thinking about you telling me 'well I drink so much alcohol no bugs could live in my blood'." He looked at her when she spoke, but he still didn't say anything. "You _can_ hear me, right?" He nodded. "Okay. Good, because I want you to close your eyes so I can wash your hair." He obeyed, closing them and keeping them like that. She grabbed his shampoo (and 2 in 1, really? Lazy) and poured some on his head. When she washed it out, a bunch of dirt and blood and who knew what else came with it. She wasn't satisfied she'd gotten it all, so she did it again. "You can open your eyes now if you want to," she said when she was finally satisfied that she'd got rid of all the dirt. "Tilt your head," she told him, turning the shower head onto its softest setting and directing it toward his ear. For a few seconds the water coming back out was red. Then it faded to pink. When it was finally running clear she repeated the process on the opposite side.

"You're done. You want to get out or wait for me?" When he didn't say anything, she shook her head. Right, yes or no questions. "Are you okay to sit there until I'm done?" This time he nodded. She did her best to hurry; she didn't want him sitting there too long. When he tried to stand up as she went to get out of the shower she rested a hand on his shoulder. "Wait till I get a towel around me and then I'll help you get out." He stopped moving. She didn't bother to get dressed, just dropped the towel at the end of the bed once she was dry.

When she'd put him back in the bed she grabbed the first aid kit and dug through it until she found a tube of Polysporin. She applied it to all of his cuts and abrasions, and then pulled a t-shirt and some boxers out of his drawer. Generally speaking he didn't wear anything when he slept, but the ointment would stain his sheets.

"Are you in pain?" The second the question was out of her mouth she felt like an idiot. "Physically," she clarified. He shrugged. "You don't know?" He nodded. Wonderful.

She went back downstairs and grabbed her purse and a glass of water and one other item, checking to make sure the door was locked before going back to his room. The other item was the gun she'd sworn she'd never bring into an apartment full of crazy, immature or drunk individuals. But she was glad it was here now. There was no guarantee that the people who'd killed Nate's father wouldn't be coming here next. She still didn't know who it was. In his rush to get them to the warehouse he'd never said. She checked the safety and then put the gun in her purse, because no matter how safe it would make her feel there was no way she wanted Nate knowing it was close enough to be available.

When she re-entered his room he was back in the same spot where he'd been before, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. She had a feeling he wasn't really seeing it; if it hadn't been there he'd likely have still kept looking.

Sophie pulled out some Advil from her purse and handed them to him. He put them in his mouth and swallowed. She shook her head. "Sit up and have a drink Nate. Dry swallowing pills is stupid. They can get stuck on the way down and irritate your esophagus." He did as he was told, mechanically. She wanted to cry. All the times she'd wished he would just shut up and agree with her, and now it that it had happened she wished like hell she could take it back.

It took her a few seconds to realise that she actually _was_ crying. The only reason she knew was because he reached out a hand and brushed against her cheek with his knuckles. It may have been the softest touch she'd ever received from him. After a few deep breaths, she wiped her face on the towel she'd left on the end of the bed and then hung it on a hook to dry.

Nate lifted up for her so she could pull back the covers. She slid in next to him naked, resting her head on his chest. His hand came up and stroked through her hair, being gentle enough that he didn't even pull on any of the tangles that she knew must be there, since she hadn't bothered to brush it after her shower. She shifted closer, draping one of her legs between his... and felt the unmistakable bulge in his boxers. Apparently his libido hadn't gotten the hint that he was in serious pain.

Lifting her head, and praying he wouldn't push her away, Sophie met his lips with hers. He was slower to respond than he normally would have been, but there was definite participation on his part. She kept kissing him and shifted so that her weight was on his hips. He thrust up against her, and she couldn't help moaning at the sensation. She pulled back from him to take a breath, since oxygen was important and all, and reached down, pushing his boxers down as far as she could reach without moving. Then she kissed him again, and he slid into her body. About ten seconds after he started thrusting into her she realised: they weren't using a condom. And she wasn't on birth control.

"Nate," she said, alarmed, "you don't have a condom on! And this is exactly the wrong time of the month for us to be having unprotected sex!" She tried to pull back, pull away, but he stopped her. She met his eyes. He was totally aware of what they were doing. He'd known. She could see it in his eyes. And he hadn't stopped her. At this point it didn't matter; for all she knew what they'd already done might have been enough to get her pregnant. She swallowed hard, and then started moving. Slowly at first, grinding her pelvis against his, gasping a bit at the pressure it created on her clit. Her pace picked up, and he matched it, reaching between them to run his fingers over her. She kissed him again, needing to taste him, needing to feel his mouth against hers. Fairly quickly the kisses became open mouthed, because that was the only way she could breathe at this point. He didn't stop moving his fingers on her clit, and the orgasm came as a shock. It always did, with him. It was one of the things about him that she both loved and hated simultaneously; his ability to make her lose control so easily. The feeling when he came inside her was incredible, not necessarily because of the hot jets of semen, though that felt amazing. But because he didn't even try to pull out of her when it happened. He kept his eyes on hers the entire time (and she had no idea how, because who the hell manages to keep their eyes open during an orgasm?) and he pulled her down into another kiss.

After a few minutes just spent breathing, waiting for heart rates to slow to something approaching normal, she slid off of him and went into the bathroom. She gave herself a quick glance on the way by the mirror, but didn't linger. She was afraid of what she might see in her eyes.

When she came back out, he was holding the gun she'd brought up to the room with her. For a second her heart leapt into her throat, but then she realised he'd taken the magazine out of it. He was pointing it at the ceiling, staring down the barrel, as if sighting a target. When he noticed her watching him, he picked up the magazine, slid it back into place, and checked the safety. And then held it out to her to take. She managed, with great difficulty, to suppress the sigh of relief that was trying to make its way out of her lungs. She took the offered firearm and put it into the drawer of her nightstand (and when the hell had it become _her_ nightstand, _her _side of the bed?) She shook the thoughts away and settled back down against him. Within minutes she was snoring softly. So she missed the tears that ran down his cheeks, still tinted pink from the damage done by that bomb. So much damage.


	2. Damage: Nate's Silence 2

I don't own Leverage. The song used at the end of this one is What Might Have Been by Little Texas. Warning: Kleenex may be needed if you listen to that song. Seriously.

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><p>Sophie woke up when Nate started to stir beside her. A quick glance at the bedside alarm clock showed that it was close to five in the morning. She moaned slightly; she'd never been a fan of very early mornings. Nate had pulled himself up and was staring straight ahead at the wall across the room.<p>

"Hungry?" she asked. So far as she knew he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday at the patent office. She was hoping that he'd actually say something but no such luck. He did nod once though.

"Why don't you try standing up and see how the dizziness is? I don't want you trying to walk downstairs and landing on your head." He nodded again and propelled himself around so that he was sitting on the side of the bed. She watched as he stood up, fighting the urge to grab the back of his t-shirt. It would make her feel better, but she knew that if (_when_, she reminded herself angrily, _when_) he got through this his male pride would be wounded at the idea of having needed her help. He swayed back and forth a bit but kept his feet. He disappeared into the bathroom and she got up herself, grabbing a bathrobe from his closet and making her way down the stairs.

She stood in the kitchen for a few seconds in deep thought. Now what? She wasn't very much of a cook, never had been really. She tended to get distracted and wander off at the wrong moment. Deciding it was best to just veto the stove altogether, she started digging through Nate's cupboards. Thank God Parker liked cereal. She opened the fridge to get the milk and just closed her eyes for a second. Eliot had been here at some point last night. There was a fruit salad, several sandwiches, and a container with a hand written note on top with instructions for cooking. She felt a wave of love for her friend. He'd done what she'd asked, not getting in the way of her taking care of Nate. But he saw it as his job to keep them all fed, and so despite being tired and most likely in a serious amount of pain, he'd waited until he knew they were both asleep and then stocked Nate's fridge.

Sophie dished out two bowls of the fruit salad and set them near the bowls of cereal on the table along with the milk pitcher, and then put on a pot of coffee. After nearly a minute of arguing furiously with herself, she finally grabbed Nate's bottle of whiskey from the cupboard and added a splash to the bottom of his coffee mug. For all that she wanted him to quit drinking (or at least slow it down some) she knew that adding the stress of alcohol withdrawal onto him right now could only make things worse.

Nate wandered down the stairs just as she was setting the coffee on the table. He didn't react at all to the taste of the whiskey in his coffee, which in a way told her exactly how far from his normal self he really was. Ordinarily he'd have done something to acknowledge the victory of having her provide him with alcohol, even if it was only a raised eyebrow or a small smile. But this time there was nothing there.

"Will you tell me who it was?" She met his eyes. He opened his mouth, and she was sure he was going to speak, but then he shook his head in frustration looked down again. Suddenly she was sure there was more going on here than just him choosing not to speak. "Nate, why can't you talk? It's not a choice, is it?"

He shook his head. He grabbed his I-Pad from across the table and typed a couple of things. Then he turned it around and showed it to her. He'd brought up a website, and a definition. Selective Mutism? Her brow furrowed as she read. Apparently it was a disorder that kept people that could normally speak from talking when in certain situations or with certain people. It was a social disorder. She looked up at Nate. He met her eyes and shrugged.

"How sure are you that you have this?" He didn't answer, just walked over to a book shelf and pulled down a book. When he handed it to her she was completely confused. It was a bible. He reached over and flipped it open. About a third of the way through a piece of paper was tucked inside. He pulled it out. It was a treatment record from a psychiatrist. It was dated a long time ago; he must have been quite young at the time. The notes were about various symptoms and the treatment plan for dealing with them. She read the entire thing, doing her best to memorise it. When she finished it she looked up. "You could have told me this you know. All those times when I thought you were just ignoring me, or when I thought you were giving me the silent treatment to piss me off. It was this, wasn't it?" She felt rage coiling inside her and tried to push it down. If what she'd just read was true, then he couldn't have helped himself. She wondered if Maggie had known.

He returned the paper to its spot in the bible and then idly flipped through. There were other papers in there too. Every so often he'd stop and pull one out, look at it, and then put it back. Suddenly he tensed. Then she could see him take a deep breath, as if trying to steel himself for something, and he pulled out a photograph. He stared at it for a second and then handed it to her.

The picture was of Jimmy Ford holding a baby. Sam. Obviously it had been before Nate's father had gone to prison. She placed it back in the bible, treating it like the finest china. He closed the bible and then put it back where he'd gotten it from. She thought he'd sit back at the table but instead he detoured around her and pulled out a marker and started writing on one of the glass boards they used. When she walked up behind him and read what he'd written, she felt a brief sense of panic, and then the rage that she'd pushed away a few moments earlier found a whole new target. He'd written out two names, connected by a horizontal line. Jack Latimer – Victor Dubenich. Below them he started scrawling sectors where he thought they might have intersected. She went back to the table and got the I-Pad and started doing research. Latimer and Dubenich would pay.

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><p>Sophie was back in the van, driving to the patent office. <em>Hurry up!<em> She tried to yell at herself, but found she couldn't speak. Still, she kept trying. _Go faster! You need to get there!_ She wasn't sure exactly why she needed to get there in such a hurry, only that it was vitally important. Something bad was going to happen if she didn't get there in time. Suddenly everything changed and she was sitting in the back of the van. Nate jumped out and she tried to grab him, tried to keep him from running into the warehouse. She knew he shouldn't go in there but had no idea why. Terrified, she watched as he disappeared inside. A flash of orange, and…

Sophie sat bolt upright in bed, gasping. She fumbled for the switch for the lamp on the night table beside her, but in her haste she knocked it off. She swore violently, and suddenly Nate's arms were around her, holding her tight. She turned around and clung to him, still breathing rapidly from the nightmare. He didn't say anything, just rubbed her back and held her. After a few minutes she started to calm down.

"God that was awful. I haven't had a nightmare like that in forever. I don't think I'm going back to sleep tonight." She shook her head, trying to clear the last traces of the fear from her mind. Nate grabbed his remote and turned on the tv. Hardison had been shocked and dismayed at the idea that Nate didn't have at least a small tv in his room and the next day Nate had come home from the grocery store to find a brand new 32 inch LCD monitor affixed to his wall. About ten seconds of pulling on it had let him know that Hardison knew what he was doing when he installed electronics; the damn thing wouldn't budge. Finally Nate had just shrugged and left it there.

Nate flipped through the channels until he found an old movie and then settled back against his headboard and pulled Sophie down against him. When the movie ended almost two hours later Sophie had fallen back asleep, his hand firmly grasped in hers. He turned off the television and settled back down, bringing her with him.

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><p><em>Thanks for the food<em>, Sophie texted.

A few seconds later her phone beeped. _Anytime. He talking yet?_

_No._ She hesitated and then sent: _But he let me know who's behind this, and it isn't just Latimer. It's Dubenich._

The next text she received said _That F—king Bastard! I'm gonna kill him._

_NO! Eliot, don't do anything yet. We need to plan this out. Otherwise one or both of them might get free. Just keep Hardison and Parker safe for now, okay? _She could almost hear his growl of impatience at her restraining him, but in her mind she knew it was the right thing to do. She waited nervously for his next text and then breathed a sigh of relief.

_Copy that. But just so you know, if I have to spend too much more time with those two without you to mediate once in a while, bad things are likely to happen. I only have so much patience you know._

_You know you love them._

_ I think you're a little confused with your words there darlin'._

_ Not at all. I'll keep you posted if I learn anything else._

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><p>"We're going out for dinner." Nate looked over at that comment. It was the third day since that warehouse had exploded. "You owe me a date, remember?" she teased gently.<p>

"Yeah." Her head whipped around at his assent. "I do."

He avoided her gaze, so clearly he wasn't quite back to his normal self. But the fact that he'd talked at all was a relief.

"Go get dressed," she said, giving him a gentle shove. "Wear a suit."

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><p>They took a walk by the water after dinner, her muscles thankful at being stretched out. She wasn't used to so much inactivity. They'd both been spending so much time working at the DubenichLatimer problem that they'd barely come up for air. Nate's apartment was a disaster. It looked a bit like a cyclone had gone through and dropped papers and whiskey bottles everywhere. Actually, Sophie had been more than a little concerned at the amount of alcohol that Nate was consuming but it appeared to barely effect him.

"Will you have a funeral?" Her question was soft.

He sighed and then shook his head. "No. All that would do is give Dubenich another target. I… I'm going to talk to Bonanno tomorrow. Odds are that they've called in a medical examiner by now, and the least I can do is ID the remains so they don't spend a bunch of taxpayer's money to try and figure out who it was."

"I'm going with you." Her voice was firm.

He could tell she thought he would argue, but instead he just nodded and said "Okay." They climbed back into his car. He'd handed his keys off to her before they left his apartment. She was glad; that first year that they'd worked together he'd driven under the influence more than once, and it had pissed her off to no end. It was one thing to put yourself in danger, but another entirely to put others at risk as well. She'd finally laid into him about it and he'd actually listened for once.

When they got back to his apartment and he made to go back to staring at the screens with all his notes on them, she grabbed his hand. "Uh-uh. Nope. Date's not over." She pulled him after her up the stairs.

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><p>"Harder than you thought, huh?" She reached a hand over to him and he grasped it. She kept her eyes on the road.<p>

"Yeah." His voice was tight. Once detective Bonanno had realised that it was Nate's father who'd been in that warehouse, he'd escorted them into the medical examiner's office himself. There hadn't really been anything left of Jimmy Ford, just a half melted metal crucifix that had been in his wallet and some fragments of bone. Obviously Nate hadn't been allowed to see those; he had however voluntarily given a DNA sample so that they could cross reference it. Once it was matched they could release the… body, for burial. Nate had advised them to send the remains for cremation, and left a contact number. It wasn't until he'd gotten back in the car that he'd buried his head in his hands, his whole body trembling. Sophie just rested a hand on his back to let him know she was there. Finally he sat up and wiped his face and buckled his seatbelt.

"I'm going to put him with mom," he said now. "It's… it's what she wanted. And I think he would have wanted that too." He was swiping at the tears but they just kept falling.

The lines on the road in front of Sophie blurred. She wasn't sure when it had happened, but at some point she'd realized that she'd rather suffer herself than see him in pain. "Nate, I'm sorry. Sorry that you're suffering, sorry I didn't drive faster getting back to you. Maybe if I had…"

His grip on her hand grew almost painful, and he said "Don't you ever blame yourself for this. Ever. It wasn't your fault, and you couldn't have stopped it. Don't play that stupid game in your head Soph, because you'll lose every time." He reached over and pushed some buttons on the stereo. After a few seconds a song started playing. It took her a bit to catch up to the lyrics. When she did, she realized again that Nate Ford never did anything without a purpose, even if it wasn't apparent at first.

_So try not to think about what might have been,_

_ 'Cause that was then,_

_ And we have taken different roads._

_ We can't go back again._

_ There's no use giving in._

_ And there's no way to know,_

_ What might have been._


	3. Damage: Nate's Silence 3

Here is the third and final chapter of this fic. Obviously I still don't own Leverage... though I continue to dream.

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><p>Nate opened his eyes slowly. Within a second it all came rushing back. His father's death, finding out that it was Dubenich that was responsible, his subsequent guilt that he hadn't planned for it. He should have known, should have figured that Dubenich wouldn't have let it go. Hell, the man had told him so himself, when they'd first taken him down. He'd ignored the warning, still on a high from finally giving rein to the part of him that had always wanted to be the black king instead of the white knight. Part of the high had also come from the camaraderie he'd felt despite his assurances that the contrary was true. For two years he'd been pushing everyone away, because the one person he had wanted was buried in the ground.<p>

He shook his head, his movement jostling Sophie, who was curled up into his side. She opened her eyes and blinked a couple times, then snuggled closer and closed them again, clearly indicating that she wasn't ready to get up yet. Nate had to smile a little despite his pain. More than once Sophie had told him that getting up before eight am was indecent unless there were extremely compelling reasons for doing so. When he'd asked what those reasons were she'd stated "Shoe sales, ravening hunger, and IYS insurance agents bent on capturing me. In that order."

After about five minutes Sophie opened one eye and looked up at him again. "You're keeping me awake thinking so loudly," she grumbled.

"Sorry." After a second he sighed and climbed out of bed, pulling on a pair of sleep pants. "I'm going to go downstairs. Get some more sleep if you can." She nodded and watched him through the open door until he disappeared down the spiral staircase.

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><p>When Sophie made her way down the stairs an hour later, freshly showered and smelling faintly of Nate's soap, she expected to find him going over his notes on Latimer and Dubenich. Instead, he was sitting at the table, his cell phone the only object in front of him. From the look on his face she could tell something was wrong. She slid into a chair beside him.<p>

After a second he said "They're done. They sent him for cremation. I'm supposed to go there this morning and sign papers so they can do it." He dragged a hand through his curls. "He's already gone, dammit! Why is this so hard?"

Sophie didn't answer, just reached out and took his hand. After a few seconds he stood up and went back upstairs to shower.

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><p>When Nate came back downstairs, Sophie was sitting at the island in the kitchen. His keys were sitting on the island in front of her.<p>

He caught her eyes, and in the next few seconds an entire conversation went through his mind. What he could say to make her stay here. What she would say to try to convince him otherwise. The arguments and anger that would have happened in this circumstance as few as two months ago. Instead, she just waited, eyes on her hands. After a second he reached out and nudged the keys towards her. She looked up at him, and for a second he thought he could see straight through to her soul. She picked up the keys and led the way out of the apartment.

* * *

><p>"My name's Nate Ford. I um… have some paperwork to sign." The woman at reception didn't look at all surprised at Nate's nervousness.<p>

"We've been expecting you Mr. Ford. I'm so sorry about your loss." She rested a hand on Nate's arm and Sophie swore her eyes went from brown to green, because that was what colour the whole world turned in that one instant. It wasn't the first time another woman had hit on Nate in her presence, but it was definitely the first time she'd felt this hot, clawing jealously. It didn't help that the woman in front of them was married, and having an affair to boot.

To his credit Nate didn't look affected in the slightest, murmuring thank you but clearly not interested. "I'll go get that paperwork," the woman said.

They sat down to wait. Nate was clearly ill at ease, fidgeting and shifting around in his chair. Sophie waited, and finally he said "This is all too familiar. It feels like Sam."

Sophie twined her fingers through his. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, and then indicated the woman returning with the forms for him to sign. When all the paperwork was finished she asked if he was having his father put in a cemetery. Nate gave her the name and plot number where his mother was and she said they'd call when they'd finished putting Jimmy there.

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><p>It was midafternoon when Nate's phone rang again. He thanked the person on the other end of the line and hung up. Sophie had declared that there was no work being done today and then taken him to an exhibit at the Boston Museum. They'd wandered, room to room, occasionally talking but mostly just content to look at the art. She'd pointed out a fake sculpture to him; he'd indicated a couple of flaws in the security system that would have made Parker itch to exploit them if she'd known they were there. Strangely enough, though she still considered herself a thief, Sophie didn't feel any driving need to steal any of the artworks (despite a rather stunning Van Gogh that she'd actually looked for in her earlier days). It was as if the stealing and the cons were now more a means to an end than the point itself, as she'd once believed.<p>

"We should go there, Nate. Even if you only stay for five minutes." She looked over at him. They were in an outdoor café at the moment.

She could see the muscles in his cheek twitch, and then he nodded.

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><p>The first thing Nate noticed was the flowers. They were hard to miss, really; they were a combination of red and white roses, long stem, expensive looking. He could see them from the car when they drove up. As he got closer he revised his estimate to very expensive, since there were at least three dozen of the things. He looked over at Sophie, wondering if it was her doing. She shook her head in answer to his unspoken question.<p>

When they got close enough to read the gravestone he got another shock. His father's name was already written there, the typeface the same as the one used for his mother. The date of birth and death were both there as well, and below it were the words Beloved Husband and Father. Nate crouched down and ran his fingers over the words, noting how sharp the edges felt in comparison to the matching epitaph on his mother's side of the gravestone. He stood up and stepped backwards… and almost knocked Parker over.

After a little shuffling they both managed to keep their feet. Eliot and Hardison were there too, standing next to Sophie. Both of them were in suits, and he could swear Eliot had gotten his hair trimmed.

"How did you guys…?" he asked, and then glanced at Sophie. She shook her head.

"Not guilty," she said, raising her hands in a warding gesture.

Nate turned his gaze back to the two guys. Eliot shrugged. "You didn't think we'd let you go through this all by yourself, did you? I mean, yeah, Soph asked us to give you guys some privacy at your place, but she didn't say we weren't allowed to be there for you if you ventured out. So here we are."

Nate turned his eyes to Hardison. "I hacked the M.E's office," Hardison said. "That told me when they moved the remains and where to. Then I tracked your phone. By the way, you guys wandered around a museum for four hours? Without stealing anything? Boring. So then when I knew you were coming here we came here too."

Nate looked at Parker last. She shrugged a little and stared at her shoes. "You're supposed to put flowers on people when they die. I remember that from my brother. Then I noticed they didn't put his name on there so I went and asked a guy real nice if he'd do it for me and he said sure. I even paid him real money and everything."

It took him two swallows before Nate could get his voice to work, and even then it was a little squeaky, like a metal hinge that had started to rust. "Thanks." He tried to say more but the words just wouldn't come out.

"One other thing Nate." Sophie exchanged a look with Hardison for a second and then reached into her purse. She handed Nate a usb stick. "I asked Hardison to hack the cell phone company. They record calls for a certain period of time on the server. This is… this is the audio from that call. I thought you might like to have it."

He wasn't sure why that act of kindness was the one that made him break down. All he knew was that one minute he was standing and the next he was sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around his knees and crying like a baby into his arms. Of all people, Parker was the first one to sit down and wrap her arms around him, not saying anything, just hugging him so hard his ribs creaked. But seconds later the rest of the team were there too, telling him it was okay, that he wasn't alone and they wouldn't leave him and it was okay to cry. Sophie's eyes were against his shoulder and it occurred to him in some distant part of his brain that she must be crying too because his shirt was becoming increasingly wet in that spot.

When Nate finally looked up he thought maybe he was hallucinating, because standing in front of him was Father Paul. But when Eliot's eyes turned to the man Nate decided he must really be there.

"I'll go if you want me to Nate but…" Nate shook his head.

"You need to read from that or you know the words by heart?" Nate asked, pointing at the bible Paul held in his hands.

"I know them," Paul said. "Too well."

Nate nodded and stood up, pulling Soph up beside him. The rest of the team arrayed themselves behind him, Parker brushing grass off herself and attempting to look presentable. "The Lord is my Shepherd," Paul began.

* * *

><p>"So when we going after Latimer?" Eliot asked the question, but all of the younger team members watched Nate for his response. A part of him wanted to hug them all for the 'when' in that statement, the foregone conclusion that Latimer had hurt Nate so they were going to hurt him back.<p>

"Not yet. Give me… us, a few more days to work on it," he said. "If you can do surveillance without getting caught, do it, but stay safe."

Each of them nodded, and right before they went to climb into Eliot's car Nate pulled Parker aside and whispered something in her ear. Sophie, watching from near the driver's side of Nate's car, had a good idea what he'd said when Parker grinned. Two days later when that Van Gogh she'd been eyeing disappeared from the Boston Museum, her suspicions were confirmed. Guess Nate really was a thief after all.


End file.
